The Pied Slayer of Sunnydale
by falln-angl
Summary: Fractured fairy tale. Based on ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’.


DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a trademark and belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox Television, the WB, and whoever else has rights to them. Same goes for all recognisable BtVS characters.

__ The Pied Slayer of Sunnydale 

A very long time ago, the town of Sunnydale in California was invaded by bands of vampires, the likes of which had never been seen before nor ever will be again. They were great ugly creatures which ran boldly even in broad daylight – under cover, of course – through the streets and swarmed all over the houses, so that the people, or whatever was left of them, were tired of having to bury loved ones, and then seeing them again the next night as vampires.

When dressing in the morning they found vampires in their breeches and petticoats; and when they wanted a morsel to eat, the voracious horde had swept away everything from cellar to garret, even though, really, they didn't have to. The night time was even worse. As soon as the lights were out, these untiring bloodsuckers set to work. And everywhere – in the ceilings, in the floors, in the cupboards, at the doors – there was a chase and a rummage, often many screams, and so furious a noise of gimlets, pincers and saws that a deaf man could not rest for even an hour.

Neither cats nor dogs, nor poison nor traps, nor prayers, nor candles burned to all the saints…nothing did any good. The more vampires they killed, the more came.

But one Friday there arrived in the town a young girl with a pretty face, who carried bagpipes and sang this refrain:

Who lives shall see:  
This is she,  
The Vampire Slayer.

She wasn't a tall, gawky girl, wasn't bronzed, didn't have a crooked nose, didn't have a long rat-tail moustache (cos she _was_ a girl after all), didn't have two great yellow piercing and mocking eyes under a large felt hat set off by a scarlet cock's father. She was more petite, lithe, had blonde hair and didn't wear a cap at all. She was dressed in a black jacket with a leather belt and no breeches, and on her feet were fashionable yet comfortable shoes, fastened by thongs passed around her legs in the gypsy fashion. That is how she may be seen to this day, painted on a window of the cathedral of Sunnydale.

She stopped in the great marketplace before the town hall, turned her back to the church and went on with her music, singing:

Who lives shall see:  
This is she,  
The Vampire Slayer.

The town council had just assembled to consider once more this plague of Egypt, from which no one could save the town. The stranger sent word to the councillors that if they would make it worth her while, she would rid them of all their vampires before night fell.

'Then she is a witch!' cried the citizens with one voice. 'We must beware of her.'

The Mayor – the one who replaced the Mayor from season three, the one who had turned into a big evil snake thing but was later blown up – who was considered clever, reassured them. He said, 'Witch or no, if this Slayer speaks the truth, it was she who sent us this horrible vamps she wants to rid us of today for money. Well, we must learn to catch the devil in her own snares. You leave it to me.'

'Leave it to the Mayor,' said the citizens to one to another.

And the stranger was brought before them. 'Before night,' said she, 'I shall have dispatched all the vampires in Sunnydale if you will pay me a dollar a head.'

'A dollar a head!' cried the Sunnydalians. 'But that will come to millions!'

The Mayor simply shrugged his shoulders and said to the stranger, 'A bargain! The vampires will be paid for at one dollar a head as you ask.'

The Slayer announced she would begin that very evening when the moon rose. She added that the inhabitants should, at that hour, leave the streets free and content themselves with looking out of their windows at the not-so-pleasant spectacle that would be happening.

When the people of Sunnydale heard of the bargain, they too exclaimed, 'A dollar a head! But this will cost us a deal of money!'

'Leave it to the Mayor,' said the town council with a malicious air. And the good people of Sunnydale repeated, 'Leave it to the town council.'

Toward evening the Slayer reappeared in the marketplace. As at first, she turned her back to the church, and the moment the moon rose on the horizon, she pulled out the bagpipes- _Bagpipes!?_ Uh, yes, the bagpipes… She pulled out the bagpipes, and they resounded.

It was first a slow, caressing sound, then more and more lively and urgent, and so sonorous and piercing that it penetrated the farthest alleys and retreats of the town. Soon, from the bottom of the cellars, the top of the garrets, from all the nooks and corners of the cemeteries, out came the vampires, searching for the door, flinging themselves into the street, and they began to run in file toward the front of the town hall, so squeezed together that they covered the pavement like the waves of a flooded torrent.

When the square was quite full, the Slayer faced about and finally pulled out…Mr Pointy! With all the vampires still in a daze from the hypnotic music, the Slayer slayed each and every one of them with an almost maniacal frenzy. There was, after all, a whole heap of them and only one of her.

When the Slayer had thus concluded her business, she went to bed at her inn. And for the first time in three months the people of Sunnydale slept quietly through the night.

The next morning at nine o'clock, the Slayer appeared at the town hall, where the town council awaited her. 'All your vampires have been dusted,' said she to the councillors, 'and I guarantee that not one of them comes back. They were nine hundred and ninety thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine, at a dollar a head. Why don't we round it off to an easy million?'

'Let us reckon the heads first. One dollar a head is one head the dollar. Where are the heads?'

The Slayer did not expect this treacherous stroke. She paled with anger, and her eyes flashed fire. 'The heads!' cried she. 'If you care about them, go and search through the huge pile of dust in the middle of town square!'

'So,' replied the Mayor, 'you refuse to honour the terms of your agreement? We ourselves could refuse you all payment. But you have been of use to us, and we will not let you go without a recompense.' With this, he offered her fifty dollars.

Really, the Slayer knew that she wasn't supposed to be paid for anything, but it was the principle of the matter! 'Keep your recompense for yourself,' replied the Slayer proudly. 'If you do not pay me, I will be paid by your heirs.' Thereupon she left the hall hastily, and left the town without speaking to a soul.

When the people of Sunnydale heard how the affair had ended, they rubbed their hands and, with no more scruple than their town councillors, laughed about the Slayer who, they said, had been caught in her own trap. But what made them laugh above all was her threat of getting herself paid by their heirs. Ha! They wished they could only have such creditors for the rest of their lives.

Next day, which was a Sunday, they went gaily to church, thinking that afterward they would at last be able to eat some good thing that the vampires had not tasted before them. They never suspected the terrible surprise that awaited them on their return home: no children anywhere! They had all disappeared!

'Our children! Where are our poor children?' was the cry that was soon heard in all the streets. (Question: Why didn't they take their kids to church? Were they not invited into God's house?)

Then through the east gate of the town came three little boys who cried and wept, and this is the story they told:

While the parents were at church, a wonderful music had sounded in the streets. Soon all the little boys and all the little girls who had been left at home, attracted by the magic sounds – not to mention the coy promises of the lovely Slayer (Please get your minds out of the gutter. I meant candies and chocolates!) – had gone out to the great marketplace. There they found the Slayer playing her bagpipes. Then she started to walk away quickly, and they had followed, running, singing, dancing to the sound of the music, as far as the foot of the mountain which one sees on entering Sunnydale. At their approach, the mountain had opened a little, and the Slayer had gone in with them, after which it had closed again.

Only the three little ones who told of the adventure had remained outside, as if by some miracle. One was lame and could not run fast enough; the second, who had left the house in haste, one foot shod, the other bare, had hurt himself against a big stone and could scarcely walk; the third had arrived on time, but while hurrying to go in had struck so violently against the wall of the mountain that he fell backward at the moment it closed upon his friends.

Hearing this story, the parents redoubled their lamentations. They ran with pikes and mattocks to the mountain and…found all the children sleeping peacefully on the grassy ground beside the mountain.

What the…?!

Hey, this was the Slayer after all. The Chosen One. The one girl born to fight all the darkness and evils etc etc etc. She knew that this was a no-money-to-be-made job. She had just…temporarily lost her mind.

The Mayor noticed a white piece of paper stuck to the side of the mountain after having found his children, and he hurried towards it. Scrawled messily on it were two words:

'My bad!'


End file.
